


WR 325: Advanced Fiction Writing

by TourmalineGreen



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Epistolary, F/M, creative writing is my passion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 12:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18315344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TourmalineGreen/pseuds/TourmalineGreen
Summary: B. Solo and R. Niima are both taking an online advanced fiction writing course. They get paired up for an assignment. It does not go well.





	WR 325: Advanced Fiction Writing

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Chel for a read-through and laughing at my dumb jokes.

_WR 325: Advanced Fiction Writing_   
_Hoth Community College  
Professor: Maz Kanata_

**Syllabus**

In this course, we’ll be exploring a wide array of fiction styles, working to develop our range and hone our skills, while pushing the boundaries of plot, genre, character, and voice. As the course is taught via our online education portal, attendance at our weekly video lecture sessions is mandatory, with additional lecture sessions for each of the three small groups. You’ll find more information about your small group assignment in your EduPortal account. If you don’t see one, please message me right away.

* * *

**Week Seven: Collaborative Fiction**

In this assignment, you’ll be randomly partnered up with another one of your classmates, and asked to write a piece together. The way you work on it is up to you; I highly suggest corresponding via your student EduPortal messaging systems to decide on how your approach will be. But, you can also dive right in. Please be mindful of your partner’s schedule, technique, and approach. The goal of this is not to have one writer speak over the other, but to find balance. For some, this will be a challenge. Be receptive, be open-minded, be collaborative…

* * *

**B. Solo:**

The light on the moors was a perpetual twilight, the mist so thick and choking that even the brightest sunny day overhead filtered down through the veil like whispers on a dead bride’s decaying flesh. Beneath the mist, the moors were deceptive, dangerous; the tufted razor-grass and intermittent ponds dotted along the marshy bog-lands gave the impression of solid ground, but from his perch high up in the north tower of the his crumbling ancestral castle, Lord Kylo Ren, Earl of Mustafar, gazed out upon the land that surrounded him, and knew it all to be false.

It was a lie, all of it: The solidity of the ground, the shifting mist, even his own castle, all of it was false. For the ground was waist-deep in parts, and swallowed up the unwary traveller, horse and man and animal alike. How many foxes had screamed their last as the bog consumed them? Even now, the crows circled overhead, but did not land, save for a perch, here and there, on a crooked, ancient oak, gnarled by weather and time. The wind always blew here, but the mist never seemed to move.

Even the stones themselves were fragile, as if acid had eaten them away. Turned quartz to pock-marked stone. An infection, the earth’s malaise, leaching into the very rock. Something was wrong with this place. Something had always been wrong with it. And Lord Kylo was determined to discover the heart of the ancient evil.  

  


 

> _Private Message_
> 
> _From: R. Niima_
> 
> _To: M. Kanata_
> 
> _Professor Kanata, my partner hasn’t responded to any of my messages, and I have no idea what the plot he (she? They? unsure…) is going for. I’ll do my best, but I hope that’s not going to be reflected in my grade._

 

**_R. Niima:_ **

Meanwhile, high above the misty swamp and the crumbling castle, ace pilot Kira Kenobi thinks of the last taste of brandy that crossed her lips. In war, one is truly alive. Down there, on the ground, brandy dulls the senses. She warns her gunner when they near Mustafar. The gunner prepares himself.

He drops the bomb on the castle.

“Yaa-hoo!” the gunner lets out a wild, guttural yell, the primal sound from deep in his belly, the sound of victory and vengeance. “Got ‘em!”

From the pilot’s seat, Kira allows herself a firm yet satisfied smile. If she allows herself a moment to celebrate, she risks losing focus. The war, not yet won. Other battles, other victories, ones she dares not count on.

But Wilkes, in gunner position, is still hooting like a fool.

She’ll allow him his wild victory.

Her own sounds, her own celebration, she keeps tightly locked in her chest. Deftly, with steady hands and an even steadier resolve, she points the nose of her plane away from the smoldering wreckage of the castle.

 

 

> _Private Message_
> 
> _From: B. Solo_
> 
> _To: M. Kanata_
> 
> _Professor, I thought this was meant to be a collaborative exercise. My partner has just completely derailed my story. Is there anyone else you can pair me with, perhaps? Thanks in advance for your time._
> 
>  
> 
> _Private Message_
> 
> _From: M. Kanata_
> 
> _To: B. Solo_
> 
> _No, everyone else is already assigned. I am not worried about your story, and remember you will be graded on individual effort, so do try to tough it out._
> 
>  
> 
> _Private Message_
> 
> _From: B. Solo_
> 
> _To: M. Kanata_
> 
> _Very well. Thanks anyway._
> 
>  

**B. Solo:**

Above him, Lord Kylo felt the magic wards of his castle shake. More pathetic bombs, once again assailing his domain, but he would have naught of them. The illusion he had cast, the glamour upon the living rock, had fooled yet another dim-witted mortal. He could hear the infernal device that the bombs had come from, flying away like a gnat in the air, no more bothersome than such a buzzing insect. Let them come; his dark magicks had stood for a thousand years, and would stand and remain for a thousand more.

With no more thought to the human contraption, Lord Kylo returned to his work.

Before him, on the raised stone plinth, lay the shattered remains of the Sword of Reckoning. Blood-red was its blade, the folded steel so stained from the death of countless innocents who had been laid to waste in the great wars of the first age.

He had held but the hilt in his hand, the piece of the blade rising up from the leather-wrapped handle. He had spent many a night, poring over the inscription in the pommel, the ancient sigil that would awaken the blade, call it back from its ignoble demise, and make it anew. It was perilous work, for only the most highly-gifted mage to even dare accomplish. And yet Lord Kylo was such a man.

It was good, then, that the plane had departed. Such an insignificance would no longer bother him. Soon, he would be the one to wield the Sword of Reckoning, hold it aloft, and guide his undead army of wights and bog-ghasts into battle to reclaim his stolen kingdom, the lands which were his birthright. Soon, he would take his rightful place upon the Obsidian Throne. And gnats such as this one would trouble him no more.

 

**R. Niima:**

“I’m going back for one more pass,” Kira said, as an abrupt and sudden instinct tugged her awareness back to the site of the ruined castle. “Just to be sure.”

“Suit yourself,” Wilkes said.

The ace pilot and decorated veteran turned her plane around and swooped low over the ruins.

What she saw shocked her.

“It’s an illusion!” she called out. “Some kind of… hologram. On my mark, drop another round of bombs!”

“Aye, sir!” Wilkes replied.

Rey did a second, lower pass. It was now or never.

“Mark!”

Wilkes let the next bombs fly.

 

**B. Solo:**

Was the gnat yet bothering him? Lord Kylo sighed in vexation, halting the complex and crucial incantation that would work to reforge the final piece from the mighty Sword of Reckoning, which had once belonged to the greatest of all the ancient BloodLords, the ones whose restless bones now lay in the crypts beneath his castle. He knew his magicks would hold fast, but the gnat, apparently, was determined.

Foolish, yet determined.

Lord Kylo waved a black-gloved hand over the shards of the Sword of Reckoning, concealing them with an unbreakable glamour that no mortal could dare reveal. From the back of a nearby carved oak chair he retrieved his cloak, and draped it about his broad shoulders. It was black kyberweave, shot through with subtle red threads of silk and pure spellcraft. It, along with his black leather tunic and trousers, and knee-high boots, would ward against any aggressors or attacks on his person.

At last, he buckled on his sword. It was no Sword of Reckoning, but it was a formidable, two-handed weapon, crafted of Blacksteel, and crackling with his red-hot power. There was no mortal weapon that could defeat it.

Frowning, he strode from his private chambers, and went up to the grand hall. Outside, the stones still shook from the bombs, but held fast, as he knew they would. It was time to confront this gnat, and swat it down, once and for all.

 

 

> _Private Message_
> 
> _From: R. Niima_
> 
> _To: B. Solo_
> 
> _Look, I know we all read Tolkien and went through a phase where the Silmarillion was the pinnacle of literary achievement, but that doesn’t mean that an online creative writing class that actually counts for credit is the best place to post your fanfiction, okay? I need this class for my grade. Do you want to at least try and write a story together, or are you going to keep doing this?_
> 
>  
> 
> _Private Message_
> 
> _From: B. Solo_
> 
> _To: R. Niima_
> 
> _Tolkien Fan Fiction? And your Hemingway knock-off is somehow better? For those of you following along at home, I was the one who was picked to start this exchange, and you were the one who took over with a completely different idea. I’m not going to change my ideas because you want to play nooom pew pew pew with your planes._
> 
>  
> 
> _Private Message_
> 
> _From: R. Niima_
> 
> _To: B. Solo_
> 
> _Are you even old enough to be in college?_
> 
>  
> 
> _Private Message_
> 
> _From: B. Solo_
> 
> _To: R. Niima_
> 
> _Pot, meet kettle._

 

**R. Niima:**

“No effect?” Wilkes said. “That can’t be right. Shall we try another pass, sir?”

Kira frowned. “No. There’s something to this place - something unnatural. We should fly back to command and report this anomaly to Commander Kanata. She’ll know what to do.”

 

**B. Solo:**

Lord Kylo flung wide the doors to his castle with a wave of his hand. Magic pulsed in the air around him, and he looked up into the smoky air, catching sight of the gnat immediately. A dark smile curled on his lips. Time to bring the flyboy down to earth, and reveal the full might of the dark power, coursing through his veins. He stretched out his hands, feeling the energy connect him to the plane, to the very pilot. The second man, he ignored; the bomber would die on impact when the flimsy and pathetic plane went down. With a tug, Lord Kylo brought the plane down, impacting with a crash into the sodden earth that surrounded his lair.

 

 

> _Private Message_
> 
> _From: R. Niima_
> 
> _To: B. Solo_
> 
> _Dude. What the hell._

 

**R. Niima:**

Wilkes was dead.

Kira couldn’t believe HER eyes. SHE, a woman, a female person who was NOT A GUY, crawled out of the wreckage of her beloved custom plane. She had spent so many hours fine-tuning her, because planes are female, just like Kira is.

“Damn you,” she whispered, crawling over to Wilkes and pushing the limp blonde hair out of the brave gunner’s bloody forehead. “Damn you.”

What would she tell Wilkes’ husband? What would she tell his six adorable blonde children, waiting for their father back at base? It was a low-down, scummy, awful, monstrous thing for whoever it was that had done this to do this.

Kira narrowed her eyes, and found her pistol. She stood up on shaking but steady legs, planting her feet on the one spot of solid ground that lay around her in this shitty fucking mud-pit which nobody in their right mind would want to live in.

“Good thing swords can’t deflect bullets,” she said, and directly at his heart.

 

**B. Solo:**

Lord Kylo scoffed at the projectile and easily deflected it with a flick of his wrist. It went sailing around in a curve, coming back to hit the WOMAN (!!) right above the heart.

Then she fell into the bog, and lay still.

 

 

> _Private Message_
> 
> _From: R. Niima_
> 
> _To: B. Solo_
> 
> _This is ridiculous. You obviously aren’t taking this seriously._
> 
>  
> 
> _Private Message_
> 
> _From: B. Solo_
> 
> _To: R. Niima_
> 
> _If you read the assignment, you’ll see that we’re being graded individually. So if you’re having a problem writing well, then sir, that’s not exactly my problem, is it?_
> 
>  
> 
> _Private Message_
> 
> _From: R. Niima_
> 
> _To: B. Solo_
> 
> _Sir? Bit presumptuous there, really. Although given the high standard of the rest of our conversations, I shouldn’t be shocked. And your writing._
> 
>  
> 
> _Private Message_
> 
> _From: B. Solo_
> 
> _To: R. Niima_
> 
> _My apologies, ma’am. My point still stands: We are being graded individually. You were the one who decided to change the plot._
> 
>  
> 
> _Private Message_
> 
> _From: R. Niima_
> 
> _To: B. Solo_
> 
> _And you didn’t have the right to just set some kind of high-fantasy plot without even messaging me first, as it says, wait for it, in the assignment. (Ma’am? Really??)_
> 
>  
> 
> _Private Message_
> 
> _From: B. Solo_
> 
> _To: R. Niima_
> 
> _Fine. You want to collaborate? Meet me at the library at 3:00. We’ll talk like adults and figure something out that won’t end in either of us getting expelled._
> 
>  
> 
> _Private Message_
> 
> _From: R. Niima_
> 
> _To: B. Solo_
> 
> _Not sure it’s a great idea to meet in person, but alright, I accept._

 

**B. Solo:**

“No,” Lord Kylo said, as a terror washed over him, a fierce and irrepressible guilt at what he had so carelessly done. He cast aside his blade, and ran across the bog to where the woman’s body lay.

Digging her out of the mud, he turned her over. This was no place to die. This was truly an ignoble end to the life of a beautiful, fierce, talented, loyal and brave woman. For in that moment as he had deflected her bullet, he had connected his own mind to hers, seen through her eyes and known her thoughts as intimately as his own. She had shone a light into the dark and musty corners of his heart, and he had burned under her gaze, purified and holy.

No longer did he crave bloodshed, or the renewal of the sword that held such a bloody legacy. No. He yearned to heal, and to renew, and to fulfil the righteous legacy that he had turned his back on, lo these many years ago.

Many lonely years.

“Live,” Lord Kylo sobbed, his salt tears coursing down his hideous, scarred face, washing the pilot’s visage clean. “Live, damn you!”

 

 

> _Private Message_
> 
> _From: R. Niima_
> 
> _To: B. Solo_
> 
> _Laying it on a bit thick, are we, Ben?_
> 
>  
> 
> _Private Message_
> 
> _From: B. Solo_
> 
> _To: R. Niima_
> 
> _Shut up._
> 
>  

**R. Niima:**

Kira opened her eyes.

“I’m fine,” she said, looking up and smiling in surprise at the man who held her. He was really quite handsome, she thought, not ugly at all. He had very nice lips which she had a strong suspicion where talented and strong, and she hoped that the castle wasn’t so ruined that it didn’t have, say, a library, in which to test that theory.

 

 

> _Private Message_
> 
> _From: B. Solo_
> 
> _To: R. Niima_
> 
> _You are the worst._
> 
>  
> 
> _Private Message_
> 
> _From: R. Niima_
> 
> _To: B. Solo_
> 
> _Oh? And what are you going to do about it?_

 

**B. Solo:**

Lord Kylo thrilled to see the woman awaken, and hastily gathered her up into his arms. In no time at all he had traversed the distance back to his castle, and despite her strong-willed protests, he did not set her down, but carried her to his chambers where he lay her upon his bed to tend to her wounds.

 

**R. Niima:**

“I’m getting mud all over your sheets,” Kira said.

 

**B. Solo:**

Lord Kylo smiled down at her. “Then we best divest you of those muddy garments, my lady, to prevent such a mess from occurring.”

 

 

> _Private Message_
> 
> _From: M. Kanata_
> 
> _To: B. Solo; R. Niima_
> 
> _Okay you two, I think we’re done here._
> 
>  
> 
> _Private Message_
> 
> _From: R. Niima_
> 
> _To: B. Solo_
> 
> _Pity. How ever will we finish their story?_
> 
>  
> 
> _Private Message_
> 
> _From: B. Solo_
> 
> _To: R. Niima_
> 
> _I’ve got a few ideas…_


End file.
